Shrove Tuesday in 221B
by yowhyy
Summary: John comes home to an unpleasant smell... What on earth is Sherlock doing? A little Pancake Day fic from 221B


Shrove Tuesday in 221B

As John Watson entered his flat, the distinct smell of burning filled the air. He groaned. What the bloody hell was Sherlock experimenting with this time? John hardly dared look into the kitchen, where the smell was coming from. Last time he'd (stupidly) done that, there had been the sight of about 20 eyeballs staring towards the door, each in its own test tube filled with various coloured liquid. John hadn't slept that night.

As he cautiously eased the kitchen door open, there was a large crashing noise, followed by a deep voice uttering a series of swear words. 'Sherlock?' asked John from behind the door.

There was a silence. Then 'You're home early'

'I was only at work. And you know I finish at 5. Which as it happens was half an hour ago'

Silence again. 'So it was. Anyway, there's no need for you to come in here. Everything's under control'

'Sherlock.' John was getting slightly annoyed. 'What are you doing?'

'Nothing, John'

'I'm coming in if you don't tell me right now what the hell you are doing you need to hide from me'

There was a minute of quiet, punctured only by John's agitated breathing. He started to push against the door, causing Sherlock to exclaim 'No! Its meant to be a surprise. That's what you do to be nice, isn't it?'

'You? You're doing something nice for me?'

A cough. 'Yes. But it isn't going very well'

'Right. I guessed that from the black smoke and shattering sound'

'Yeah. About that. Don't tell Mrs Hudson I broke one of her bowls'

'Her bowls? What on earth are you doing with a bowl?'

'John?'

'Yes.'

'You won't laugh at me if I ask you to help me will you?'

'What is it?'

'I have no idea how to make a pancake'

John chuckled. Trust Sherlock to be making the seemingly most random item he could have chosen. 'A pancake?'

'It's pancake day isn't it? I always called it Shrove Tuesday but apparently people don't call it that any more'

John had forgotten about Pancake Day. Ever since he was a child his family had always made a big deal about it, clapping when John and Harry made successful flips, laughing when they ended up on the floor. They always had whatever they wanted with the dessert. John always had the odd combination of ice cream and syrup. Momentarily John was quiet, surrounded by memories. After becoming a doctor, the tradition had sort of stopped. 'You were going to make pancakes for me?'

'I was going to try'

John chuckled again. Soon him and Sherlock were both laughing from their bellies, and John entered the kitchen. To his dismay, Sherlock was even worse at cooking than he had imagined. The burnt pancake attempts were tossed in the corner, and the one currently in the saucepan (?) was thick, lumpy and beige. 'Sherlock. First of all, this is not a frying pan.'

'I know, but we didn't have one of those.'

John sighed and after a quick rummage, emerged from the cupboard holding a battered frying pan.

'Next, what did you put in these?'

'Eggs and milk.'

'You need flour you complete buffoon'

'Oh'

'And when you crack the egg, you pick out the pieces of shell' Demonstrated John. Sherlock watched in fascination as John whisked the mixture together. 'I was just putting them into the pan' grinned Sherlock.

'Oh my god' groaned John. No wonder Mrs Hudson never let Sherlock near the oven.

After several attempts, John, with Sherlock making remarks occasionally, had produced a plate of decent pancakes. 'What do you eat them with?' asked Sherlock, staring at the plate.

'You've never had a pancake?'

'No. What do you eat them with?'

'Hang on. You've never had a pancake?'

'No. We established that. What do you eat them with?'

John shook his head in bemusement. 'Whatever you want. Lemon, sugar, chocolate, syrup. I like ice-cream'

'Ice-cream it is. Topping?' Asked Sherlock, producing a tub of vanilla from the freezer.

John grinned. 'Maple syrup and chocolate sprinkles'

'Don't know about sprinkles. I've got syrup though'

And so the couple collapsed on the sofa and tucked into a well-earned batch of ice cream and syrup topped, slightly burned pancakes.

_Happy Pancake Day! This was my first Sherlock fic so advice is appreciated x_


End file.
